


Weight of the Burning World

by Vodkassassin



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Injury, But only a little, First Aid, Injury, Insecurity, Jim Tiberius Kirk is having his mid life crisis early, Jim has PTSD, Loki has PTSD, M/M, Other, Political Asylum, Politics, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Refugees, Slightly slow burn, Thor has PTSD, Trauma, everybody has PTSD, except his Planet is dead so that’s some added baggage, on both pairings, refugee situation, so is Thor, two guys in positions of power that they aren’t sure they’re ready for getting to know each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodkassassin/pseuds/Vodkassassin
Summary: Captain Kirk is a charismatic leader worth following. Underneath all of that, he‘s just as, if not more, scared as the rest of them.___Thor’s planet is gone, and he’s lead his people so far away from the fire and smoke into the universe that none of them have any idea where they are. Maybe it’s a new start.Maybe it’s not.
Relationships: Nyota Uhura/Brunnhilde|Valkyrie, Thor/James Kirk
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	Weight of the Burning World

There were certain things expected of him, as captain of a Starfleet flagship, that he hadn’t been a hundred-percent certain he could follow through with in the beginning. For all the boundless confidence that many would tell you made up James T. Kirk, there were so many ways he could see all of this going wrong, and fast. After all, he was just a lowly cadet in the command program. 

There was much for him to learn still before his future ambitions could be realized, and James had never been so full of himself that he couldn’t admit to that. Captaincy took _experience_ , and experience just hadn’t been something Cadet Kirk had, in spades or any other deck. When someone says “promotion to captain,” one would think of a fleet member who’d served in years and worked their way up to the position, who had the _experience_ to back it up.

James Kirk was neither, and that wasn’t something he could forget.

That the Admiralty had not only given him temporary command of the Enterprise in the wake of the shitstorm that was the fall of Vulcan, but had let him _keep_ it even after everything was resolved, had been… humbling wasn’t even the right word. _Terrifying_ fit the bill better. Newly minted Captain Kirk was absolutely, without a doubt, petrified of his new station and everything that it entailed.

That wasn’t too say he had no idea what he was doing, of course. Even the Admiralty wasn’t that stupid. His classes back at the academy had been focused toward this career, down to the nittiest, grittiest detail. Starfleet wasn’t anything if not thorough, and when push came to shove, James Kirk took to his new position like a duck to water. As a captain, he thrived. He lead his crew like a well oiled machine. They looked at him and listened, because they knew he looked out for the best for them. 

It hadn’t been like that at first. He was a cadet, for god’s sake. What did he know? The tune they whistled changed drastically once everything was over and done-with, however. Starfleet never had a crew so loyal to it’s captain.

That was the most terrifying part of all. James Kirk had only ever been responsible for himself, and for most of his life he’d fucked that up so spectacularly he could barely remember most of it himself. Into what kind of bottomless, abyssal pit would he lead these brave, stupendous, capable and amazing souls?

Captain Kirk was charismatic and a leader worth following. Underneath all of that, he was just as, if not more scared of every situation than the rest of them. 

And the crew of the Enterprise got into a lot of _situations_.

___

  
  


“Captain on the bridge,” Chekov announced, so often in fact that it was almost an absent-minded habit now. He didn’t even bother looking up anymore. 

It would have been irksome, how eerily exact Chekov’s Kirk-radar was, if it wasn’t also so flattering. His entire crew was flattering, even Uhura at times, which had been amazingly weird the first time and hadn’t gotten any less weird every instance following that. 

It was also faintly uncomfortable. Even after all this time, that title flowing from the lips of his crew made something deep in Jim’s chest flutter apprehensively. He’d long since given up trying to quiet it.

“What have we got?” 

Uhura spun her chair around to face him, standing up at attention as he took a seat in the captain’s chair and gazed up at the holo-monitors that spanned the entirety of the bridge. 

“Blip came up on the radars fifteen minutes ago, captain, approximately half to three-thirds the size of the Enterprise,” Chekov relayed to him. “Approaching the ship steadily but slowly on an off-target path. Their flight pattern makes it hard to determine for sure whether or not they’ve actually noticed us in turn.”

James frowned at the displays, taking note. One of them showed possible calculations of this new ships’ trajectory, and so far what he was seeing supported the boy’s theory. 

“They’re not yet in range for communications,” Uhura said, “but should be in another fifteen given that both ships stay at current pace.”

Sulu turned around to raise an inquisitive brow at him. “Should we accelerate to meet them halfway, captain?”

“No,” Jim decided resolutely. “Don’t want to spook them, especially if they haven’t noticed us yet. Retain our current course, once they’re in range we’ll send out a request for communication.” 

He directed the last part at Uhura, who nodded and went back to her seat to fiddle with her own monitors and prepare for whatever sort of situations they might find themselves in. He saw in his peripheral as she brought up a few translator engines and started prepping them. This was an unidentified vessel on the very fringes of Federation controlled territory. The scanners were picking up no indications of ship identification whatsoever, which meant it wasn’t registered under Starfleet or any other known archives in the galaxy. As officers of the Federation, they were obligated to flag them down and ask for identification.

The hiss of the lift doors opening behind him caught his attention, and Jim glanced back. His lips quirked upward at the sight of Spock making his way over.

“Nice of you to join us, commander,” he smiled, and internally laughed as the Vulcan tossed him the I’m-not-technically-suppose-to-be-irritated-but-I’m-irritated-at-you expression. Jim waved a hand at the displays before him. “What’s your take?”

“Their ignorance of our position is a peculiar theory.” Spock replied immediately. “It leads to several possible conjectures; either they are unaccustomed to in-flight communication with other vessels, or they are unaccustomed to their own vessel. Of course, there is always the conclusion that they have indeed noticed us, but have deemed it acceptable to move on without contact.”

Jim nodded in agreement. He had been thinking on the second point the commander made. The other ship’s flight was slow and had an air of caution to it that he could feel from here. Either there was something wrong with the ship itself, or whoever was piloting it wasn’t sure how exactly it worked.

“Visual on screen in five, four…” Hulu counted down, hitting a few keys in front of him. They all turned their attention to the HUD monitors to get their first glimpse of their sudden neighbor. 

Jim stared for a moment, and then took a slow, steadying breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spock turning to look at him sternly. What? He hadn’t even said anything yet!

He didn’t have to. Sulu gave a long, low whistle, and said, “Damn, that thing is ugly.”

“It looks like a- a motorcycle?” Jim blurted out, voice nearly hushed from trying to stop himself. He couldn’t help it, and looked over at his helmsman. Sulu caught his eye, and they both hurriedly looked away, snickering under their breaths. 

Moments later they were ducking their heads under the combined glares of Uhura and Spock. Apart, they were dangerous, but together they were a force to be reckoned with. They didn’t even look at Chekov, who was snickering in his own seat. How was that fair?

“I like the lights?” Chekov tried. “It’s very… shiny…”

“Um,” Jim said, straightening in his chair, but not before sharing a grin with Sulu, who winked back at him. Fighting down another laugh, he coughed. “How are we on the line, Lieutenant?”

“Pining their comms now, captain,” Uhura replied flatly. Jim eyed her warily. “It’s pending. Up to them to pick up on their end.”

“The wait time suggests two things,” Spock mused from where he stood behind Jim’s chair. “They are debating whether or not to actually confirm communication with us, or…”

“They’re figuring out how to actually pick up the comm,” Jim continued. It supported the theory that these were strangers on a strange ship.

A very _flashy_ strange ship. The thing reminded Jim of every single red light district he’s ever been to, despite not being red in and of itself- and he and Galia had definitely hit up the town, so to speak, back in the Academy, to Uhura’s ever-enduring irritation. 

Fun times, he thought in the back of his mind, pushing down the memories of his green-skinned friend. Now was not the time.

Despite the ostentatious flare for style, the thing next reminded Jim of a high-end luxury cruise liner, though more fitting with the Orion tastes. If it wasn’t for the negative to any identification on their scanners, He would have guessed it might even be just that, a cruise veered off-course. _Far_ off course. They were at the edge of the Ambisia galaxy, after all. There wasn’t much out here but stray rocks and unknowns. 

“Comms are connecting, captain,” Uhura was quick to notify.

Jim sat up in his seat, spine straightening as he looked ahead at the large, loading display. He was grateful that their line had been accepted, otherwise the ship would have to have gone on a Red Alert in the face of an uncommunicative vessel, which… was never fun for anyone. The back-noise in the rest of the room dwindled to silence as the bridge crew stopped all murmured conversations and chatter. After a few moments, the comms pinged, and the display widened to show the incoming image from the other end. 

Jim’s never seen leather on any space-ship before, in all his life. Most went for the cool and sleek minimalistic decor. This ship seemed to throw that thought out the window. It retained sleekness, but Jim could see touches of personality all over. The chairs were plush leather, for god’s sake. The interior was a uniform blue-and-white. It was a bridge, for sure, but- was that a _disco ball_ , hanging from the ceiling?

Jim wanted to exchange an incredulous look with Sulu- he could feel the man’s own double-take from here- but he was loath to break eye-contact with the man on the other end of the comm.

It seemed the theory of strangers on a strange ship checked out. This guy looked like he belonged somewhere in an gladiator ring, and stood out in stark contrast to his surroundings. The only thing Jim could find in common with the bridge and it supposed “captain”- if that was what this guy was- was that they both had the leather thing going for them. 

Leather armor, that is. And an eyepatch. Jim was suddenly worried they had pirates on their hands, if only for the situational irony.

“Who are you?” Mr. Eyepatch asked, gaze set and flat. His voice carried a cultured and almost archaic accent. He sounded so _tired._ He hadn’t looked away from Jim since the comm opened.

Kirk straightened further, if he could. That had been English. He could practically feel Uhura’s stare. “Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise, hailing your ship on behalf of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets. Were you aware that your ship has breached Federation borders?”

Eyepatch shared a look with the man next to him, who Jim hadn’t even noticed. This one was just as out of place as the first, paler than Eyepatch and with longer, darker hair. Jim cast a glance at the other figures on the screen, and insofar they all looked decidedly human. Not that that meant anything. Lots of species shared close characteristics with humanity.

“No,” Eyepatch said, looking back at him. “We were not.”

Jim waited, but nothing else was said. After a few moments, he was starting to get a little uncomfortable with all the staring going on. He glanced over at Spock, before turning back and asking, “Would you care to identify yourselves?”

Again, Eyepatch and Green leather looked at each other. The girl next to them -also in leather, what was it with these people and leather? Was it for the aesthetic? Jim’s pirate-theory was gaining momentum- rolled her eyes and stepped forward.

“What are your federation’s policies on refugees?” She asked, entire stance casual.

 _Oh_. Jim turned to stare at Spock, sharing a look with Uhura along the way. The Vulcan frowned pensively. “Procedures pertaining to any official request of asylum to a Starfleet captain necessitate a hearing. Do you require asylum or any similar aid?”

Eyepatch seemed to age where he stood. His one eye got a faraway look to it that Jim hadn’t seen outside an Admiral, perhaps Pike or, more recently, any of the Vulcans. All three of the leather-clad strangers had that look. The green one glanced down at the ground out of Jim’s sight. 

“Yes,” Eyepatch replied, almost too quiet to hear. He cleared his throat, and again met Jim’s gaze. “My people are hungry, tired. We would be most grateful for any assistance that you could offer.”

“Please identify yourselves for the record,” Jim asked kindly. The defeated thousand-yard stare he was on the opposite end of made something in his chest feel tight. It had to be sympathy.

“Gladly,” Eyepatch cleared his throat, and gave a short but not graceless bow. “I am Thor, King of Asgard. With me are my brother, Loki, and the Valkyrie warrior Brunnhilde. This ship we currently occupy is filled with no less than,” here he glanced uncertainly at his brother, before continuing with what must have been an estimate, “three thousand refugees and the last of my people. We humbly request any aid you’re willing to offer, Captain.”

Jim’s heart sped up, and if he was anywhere else, talking to anyone else, he would have gulped. Oh, royalty… wonderful. The mind of Jim Kirk was not in any way hardwired for politics, though he had been put through the necessary diplomacy courses back in the Academy. It wasn’t the best of his talents. 

Jim gave the man a slow nod, as much of a bow as the situation allowed from him. “Thank you, your majesty. As Commander Spock, to my left, said earlier, we are required to hold a hearing before any _official_ aid can be offered. Would you permit a team of our crew members to board your ship for this, or would you rather come aboard the Enterprise and conduct conversation here?”

King Thor blinked slowly, head canting to the side as he considered Jim’s offer. Jim was really digging the man’s haircut. The designs shaved into the sides were a bit eye-catching, and suited him.

The guy in green- Prince Loki, as the introductions went- touched the king’s arm and murmured something in his ear. Thor muttered something back at him, and they had a short conversation with the woman- Valkyrie? No wait, that was just the title Thor had given her, it was… Brunnhilde!- adding in a few words here and there before the three of them seemingly came to a decision.

Thor gave Jim a solemn nod. “Your team would be welcome on this ship, Captain, provided that you are among its members. We wish for this hearing to go as smoothly as possible.”

“As captain, I am required to hear you out myself,” Jim assured him. “Thank you for the permission, your majesty. By your leave, an away team including myself, Commander Spock, and my communications officer Lieutenant Uhura will beam onto your ship in fifteen minutes. Do you have a specific location in mind?”

“This room I am in now will suffice. Might I ask a favor, Captain?”

“What is it?”

Thor regarded him seriously. “Some of my people are in dire need of medical help. Do you have any doctors to spare?”

“I’m willing to bring along my Chief Medical Officer and a team of his best, if you deem it necessary.” Jim replied, worry gnawing at his stomach. 

Overly formal speech aside, Jim could already feel a growing concern for these people, and he hadn’t even properly met them yet. He’d been called soft before, mainly by fellow cadets who didn’t believe he’d make it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Jim Kirk was a bleeding heart, and it went out to these refugees the same way it had gone out to the Vulcans. He wanted to help the Asgardians in any way he possibly could, and it wasn’t just because of the bone-deep sorrow he could see emanating from King Thor.

“Please do,” Thor bowed again, hands clasped in front of him this time, pleading. 

Jim nodded decisively. “The away team will begin preparations immediately then, with a medical team in escort. Expect us in fifteen.”

“As you say,” came the tired reply, before communications went out.

Jim leaned back heavily in his seat, craning his head around to pin Spock with a look. “Go and pick personnel that you decide fit for the away team, Commander.”

Spock gave a sharp nod, pivoting on his heel and making for the lift doors as Jim leaned forward and pressing a button for the onboard comms. “Bridge to Medical.”

The response was near immediate. Gruff and waspish. Jim smiles.

“Medical.” 

“Bones, I’m gonna need you to put together a full-medical away team. We’ve got a situation that requires your expertise.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while now. Not sure if I’m going to do anything with it, but if the muse comes back to me I might continue it. Anyhow, it was too interesting for me to just leave gathering dust.


End file.
